


Welcome Home to Santa Fe

by The3rdTrumpeteer



Series: Refuge and Remedies [9]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: "i bet a few months of fresh air and you can toss that crutch for good", Angst, Character Death, but kind of a happy ending, but like, but still actual, idk how to explain this, it's metaphorical, this spawned from a headcanon I had months ago, you got that right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-05-25 01:22:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 9,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14966057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The3rdTrumpeteer/pseuds/The3rdTrumpeteer
Summary: At the end of a lost strike, Jack finally makes it to Santa Fe......and it's exactly what he thought it would be.And one by one, his family joins him.





	1. Chapter 1

They lost the strike.

More newsies were arrested; the police had no patience for children who refused to work.

And in the midst of the chaos and the screams and the handcuffs, Jack found out exactly how easy it was to get to Santa Fe.

Who knew a few blows to the head with a policeman’s baton were the answer?

He woke up in a place even greener than Central Park. The sky was blue. The sun was bright. The air was hot but fresh. His head didn’t hurt. In fact, when he gently touched the place where he had been hit, there wasn’t even a scratch.

Crutchie was there, sitting in a patch of grass and watching the clouds as they floated lazily across the sky. He smiled at Jack.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting.”

“Crutchie, what-”

“Santa Fe is beautiful, Jack. Much more pleasant than the Refuge. You were right.”

“But, why are you-”

“The Spider isn’t too nice. Hit me so hard with my crutch that it broke. But that’s okay. I don’t need it here, anyway.”

Crutchie stood up and walked over to where Jack was still lying on the ground, frozen in shock. His friend’s right leg didn’t drag limply across the grass, but rather held his weight, strong and sure. Crutchie knelt beside Jack.

“You’re better,” Jack whispered.

“The clean air works wonders.” Crutchie shrugged. “That’s what you always said.”

“Yeah.” Jack looked around. It was the place he had always talked about. The grass was soft. There were mountains in the distance. He looked over his shoulder, and he could see a city. Clay buildings. “How did we get here?”

“I’m not sure.” Crutchie leaned back. “Look, that one looks like a rabbit.”

“We lost.” The words tasted bitter in Jack’s mouth. “And you were already in the Refuge, and now...they got almost everyone, Crutchie.”

“That’s okay.” Crutchie’s voice was quiet. Gentle. “I got out, didn’t I? And now I’m here. And I think that very soon, some of the others might make it here, too.”

He pointed up at the clouds, and this time Jack looked, too. He could almost make out faces amid the fluffy, abstract shapes. His friends...his family...were on their way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race's side.

Race didn’t remember getting to the Refuge.

He only remembered shouting. The cops were shouting. The strikebreakers were shouting. The newsies were shouting. Everybody was shouting.

Race was shouting until a strikebreaker’s knife caught him in the stomach.

Then Race wasn’t shouting. He was screaming.

Race didn’t remember getting to the Refuge.

He only remembered the blood. It covered his stomach, his shirt. His hands. There was a lot of it, and it wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried. It hurt.

Someone grabbed Race roughly by the arm. He struggled, but it was no use. The policeman held his arm in an iron grip. He threw Race in the back of the police wagon and locked the door.

Race didn’t remember getting to the Refuge.

He only remembered Albert cradling his head. There were tears in his eyes. Race wanted to ask him what was wrong, but his voice wouldn’t work. It was hard to breathe. He kept forgetting where he was. Why did his stomach hurt? Why was Albert crying?

His eyelids were heavy. Race didn’t want to go to sleep. He wanted to stay and help.

Race didn’t remember getting to the Refuge.

He only remembered the comforting darkness. His stomach didn’t hurt anymore. There was no more shouting. No more pain. No more crying.

He opened his eyes and saw the sun. When he sat up, Crutchie and Jack were there. Race was happy to see them. He had been worried about Crutchie since his arrest, and Jack had gone down in the first moments of the fight.

There were questions to be asked. So many questions. But those could wait.

Race didn’t remember getting to the Refuge.

He only remembered Santa Fe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr: poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spot's side.

When Spot found out, he didn’t cry.

Not at first.

Instead, he barked at York to make sure everyone was safe in the Brooklyn lodging house and headed out to Manhattan. 

He had to see for himself.

The Refuge was an imposing building, to say the least. Spot climbed up the fire escape to the room he knew best from past visits…and one past stay. 

There were so many newsies. Spot knew most of them from all those times he had stopped by the Manhattan lodging house. From the times Race had convinced him to stay and play poker.

He couldn’t see Race.

Spot wouldn’t let himself believe it just yet. He knocked on the window, and one of the newsies…Albert, the one with the bright red hair, who had always seemed a bit afraid of him…opened it. One of his eyes was black. Both were puffy with lack of sleep (and grief, though Spot tried to block that thought from his mind).

“You didn’t come.” Albert’s voice was quiet. Spot didn’t know what to say. “You didn’t come, and we lost.”

“I-”

“You didn’t come, and now Race is dead, and Jack is dead, and Crutchie is dead!” Albert was almost shouting now, and another newsie (Specs? Spot could only remember one with glasses, though they were cracked now) appeared and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Al, you have to calm down,” Specs whispered. He looked at Spot. “Please leave.”

“I just gotta ask…is it true?” Spot glanced at Albert. “I heard about them, but…is it true?”

“…yeah.” And then Specs closed the window.

Spot climbed back down the fire escape. He walked off the grounds of the Refuge, not caring if anyone saw him leave.

He was two blocks away when he suddenly sank to his knees on a street corner.

Spot cried.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Les' side.

Les got sick the second week of their imprisonment in the Refuge. Davey was worried, but there was nothing he could do. He could only hold Les and tell it was going to be okay.

But they all knew it wasn’t going to be okay.

No doctors came to the Refuge. Snyder would never allow himself to lose money helping the kids he kept.

So Les coughed. His fever climbed. Soon, he only slept.

Davey cried. The others cried with him.

But they never cried when Snyder was there.

Days passed. Les didn’t get better. The filthiness of the Refuge didn’t help.

Davey refused to leave Les’ side. He didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. Only watched his little brother’s still form with sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks. Once he snapped at Snyder when he commented that “the little rat doesn’t have long now.”

Snyder snapped his fingers, and two goons dragged Davey from the room. They brought him back hours later. His eyes were blackened, his clothing bloodied. Specs and Albert helped him back onto the bed. He fell asleep with his hand on Les’ head.

After that, Davey stopped talking at all.

Les hadn’t been awake in days. He no longer coughed. His breathing was shallow and raspy. 

They all knew it was almost time.

Everyone slept fitfully that night. Every time Specs woke up, he glanced at Davey. His eyes were still open, fixed on Les.

Les’ face was pale.

When morning came, everything was quiet.

Les had stopped breathing.

* * *

Les had never seen somewhere so beautiful in all his short life. Not even Central Park could compare to the mountains and trees and life that surrounded him now.

He walked a bit, taking in the sights. The clouds looked like animals.

Soon, he could make out people up ahead. Les recognized them immediately and started running. He crashed into Jack’s side with a happy yell.

“You’re here! I thought I would never see you again!”

Jack looked down at him with a smile and returned the hug. “Yeah, I’m here. Happy to see you, too.”

Les pulled away and saw Crutchie and Race. Crutchie was standing on two feet, no crutch in sight.

“Hey, you’re better!” Les hugged Crutchie tightly.

“Yeah, he can’t sell papes anymore,” Race said with a grin.

“I told you, it was always my personality.” Crutchie elbowed Race. “I’m a delight.”

“Wait, can we sell papes here, too?” Les asked.

“We don’t have to,” Jack answered. “No more fat old men tellin’ us what to do. No more high prices. No more strikin’. No more worryin’.”

“It sounds nice here,” Les said. “I wish Davey could see it. He was always worrying about me.”

“Yeah?” Jack put his hand on Les’ shoulder. “Why’s that?”

“Well, I got sick in the Refuge.” Les wrinkled his nose. “It wasn’t fun there. Davey was real worried. He seemed sad. But then I guess I fell asleep, and now I’m here! And I’m not sick anymore, so he won’t have to worry. He’ll be glad to know that all of you are okay.”

Jack hugged Les again, tighter this time. “I’m sure he will, kid.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey's side, part 1.

Months passed before Snyder released any of the surviving newsies from the Refuge.

“You need to serve your time,” he would always say.

They had only been trying to fight for what was right. And all it had gotten them was pain and death.

It was sunny the day they were released. Davey wished it wasn’t.

He ignored the others’ pleas for him to return to the lodging house with them. 

“I need to get home,” he said. Those were the first words he had spoken in months. They sounded foreign coming from his lips, raspy and quiet, and he was actually surprised they had come out at all. The others seemed surprised, too. Specs, always the most mindful of them, just nodded and kept steering his other friends toward the lodging house.

Walking the distance to his apartment had never seemed so difficult. Nevermind the countless bruises and cuts and broken ankle that never healed correctly, but Davey also found himself moving slower and slower because he realized he didn’t want to face his family. He and Les had been missing for months, and now he was about to show up again with no warning and tell his parents that their youngest son was dead? That he had died in _prison_ , no less?

But he couldn’t put off the inevitable forever, and soon Davey found himself standing on the steps of the building he had grown up in. He made his way carefully up the stairs, wincing with every step, and he was at his front door before he knew it.

Davey knocked softly. He wasn’t even sure if anyone was home. Then the door opened to reveal his mother, who just gasped quietly before throwing her arms around him. Davey hadn’t felt a kind hand in what felt like ages, and he flinched involuntarily when his mother touched him. She immediately drew back, confused and horrified.

“Davey, what happened?” She asked, hesitantly putting her hands on his shoulders. There were tears in her eyes. “You and Les were gone for so long. We thought…”

Davey found he couldn’t speak around the lump in his throat. He just shook his head. His mother seemed to understand. She gripped his shoulders a little tighter and pulled him into the apartment.

“I want you to sit,” she said, pulling up a chair from the kitchen. “I’m going to clean you up.”

And so Davey sat in a chair in an apartment he hadn’t seen since he had left with Les that morning so many months ago, promising that they’d be home for dinner. Soon he was clean(er) and bandaged. His mother had set a bowl of soup in front of him, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat more than half of it. His mother sat beside him. She didn’t say anything, but rather just watched him with something unrecognizable in her eyes.

Davey didn’t know how long it had been, but then the front door opened again, and his father and Sarah came into the kitchen, only to stop short at the sight of him. Sarah was the first one to speak.

“How...?" She couldn't even get the question out, and then she was hugging him. Davey willed himself not to flinch, but it only kind of worked.

“Esther, when did he get here?” Davey’s father asked.

“A few hours ago. He just showed up.”

“Son, what happened?” Mayer Jacobs asked. He knelt in front of Davey. “Please tell us. Where’s Les?”

This time, Davey forced the words out. “We were…we were in the Refuge.” He winced at how scratchy his voice was from months of disuse, but he kept going. “The strike was…going well, we thought…but then the cops just…showed up. We didn’t stand a chance. They got so…so many of us. Took us to that place. It’s…awful in there, Dad.

“Les…Les got sick a couple of weeks in. We couldn’t do…anything. There was no medicine…doctors…”

Davey heard a small sound behind him and turned to see his mother crying. He had always hated when his mother cried. Sarah was crying, too. Davey looked back to see tears gathering in his father’s eyes.

“I…I couldn’t save him,” Davey managed to choke out. “I should have saved him.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albert's side.

It was all Specs could do to keep Albert from getting himself killed in the Refuge.

“Are you trying to die?” He asked one night. Albert had mouthed off to Snyder again and earned himself a few hours getting the shit beaten out of him…and Specs didn’t even want to imagine what else. “We’ve already…we’ve already lost so many friends. Are you trying to be next?”

And even months later, when they were finally released, it still chilled Specs to the bone that Albert had never answered the question.

It was nothing short of a miracle that Snyder decided to let them all out at the same time. Specs had Elmer’s arm slung over his shoulder; the younger newsie had twisted his ankle when a guard pushed him down the front steps.

They made it back to the lodging house in less time than Specs would have thought, considering the various injuries they were all sporting. When they opened the front door, Specs finally felt like he could relax again, after months of constantly looking over his shoulder and trying to protect his brothers with everything he had.

But they were home now. There was time to grieve and mend.

Weeks passed. Everyone who could walk started selling again. The prices were still high, but they had learned long ago that there was nothing they could do. Elmer’s ankle healed, the sight returned to Blink’s eye, and Sniper stopped jumping every time someone shouted. Davey came back, and though there were permanent bags under his eyes and he walked with a limp, he stayed.

Things were getting better.

But Albert barely slept or ate. He never smiled. One night, Boots tried to start a game of poker and Albert grabbed the deck from his hands.

“You can’t play that,” he snapped at the younger newsie. “I can’t believe you would after…” And he was out of the room before anyone could do anything. Davey knelt down and squeezed Boots’ shoulders.

“He didn’t mean it.”

“Hey, Davey-”

“I’m going to go talk to him, Specs.” 

Specs just nodded. Davey left, too, down the stairs and out the front door, which Albert had left hanging open. It was dark outside, but fortunately Davey didn’t have to go far. He found Albert in an alley a block away, leaning against the brick wall and fiddling with something in his hands.

When Davey got closer, he realized that it was a cigar. 

Albert looked up and saw him. “Go away.”

“No.”

That was apparently not the answer Albert had expected. He put the cigar in his pocket and turned to Davey. “Fine. What do you want?”

“Was that Race’s cigar?”

“…yeah. It was still sittin’ by his bed. I guess he had forgotten it that morning, and…” Albert slipped a hand into his pocket to touch it again. “I’ve been carryin’ it around. It’s stupid-”

“It’s not stupid,” Davey said. “But, Albert, you have to stop this.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re picking fights, you’re shouting at the others. Boots nearly cried when you left.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” Albert could feel himself getting angrier. “I see him everywhere, Davey. Sometimes I’ll wake up and think that for a second that he’ll be there, ready to pick on me for not gettin’ ready fast enough. But he’s not.”

“We all miss him-”

“Do you? You only knew him for a couple’a days! You don’t know how any of this works. How ‘bout you just go back to your family and leave us all alone?” 

Albert regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Davey just stood there for a moment in shock. 

“My family?” He whispered. “You mean my mother, father, and sister that I can barely look in the eyes because I couldn’t keep my own little brother alive?” He took a step toward Albert. “Did you know that my mother cries every night in the kitchen when she thinks I’m asleep? That my father can’t even bring himself to water this stupid plant we have by the window because Les was the one who helped him? Sarah still sets a place for him at the table sometimes, and when she realizes it, she can’t even eat!”

“Davey-”

“I’m here because you guys are my family, too!” Davey jabbed a finger into Albert’s chest. “And you have the nerve to act like I shouldn’t even care?”

“I…I’m-”

“Save it.” Davey stepped back, took a breath as if to compose himself. “See you back in the lodging house.” He left the alley.

Albert stood there for a few minutes. He had fucked up royally, he knew that much. And there was no way he could fix it. So he left the alley, too, but he didn’t go back to the lodging house.

Actually, Albert never made it back to the lodging house at all.

He walked the shadowy streets for awhile, trying to clear his head. It was perhaps an hour later that he heard a couple of voices coming from a doorway. It was Oscar and Morris. He groaned. Of course.

They were both obviously drunk, probably just back from one of the bars that littered the city. Race always tried to get Albert to sneak in with him. Lately, Albert avoided the bars altogether.

“Well, look who it is,” Morris drawled.

“You betta’ be careful, Red,” Oscar said with a grin. “Might get picked up by the cops again. And we all know how that turned out last time.”

“Hey.” Morris stepped closer. “Any more of your stupid friend get ‘emselves killed lately?”

And that was it. Albert saw red.

It wasn’t much of a fight until the end. Morris and Oscar were unsteady on their feet. Albert pushed Morris to the ground, and he stayed there. Oscar went down quickly. Albert punched him in the face one last time and straightened up-

-right into Morris’ knife. Shit. He hadn’t even seen him get up. Morris twisted the blade into Albert’s side, and the red began to fade to black.

Albert opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He was so tired. 

The pressure of the knife disappeared. Albert’s eyes closed. He could hear uneven footsteps. The sound of someone dragging someone else. The Delanceys…the stupid, murderous Delanceys…were getting away, but Albert couldn’t bring himself to care.

His last thought was that when Race saw the state of him, he was going to kill him.

* * *

 

When Albert woke up, the first thing he noticed was that his side no longer burned from the knife wound.

The second thing he noticed was that Race was leaning over him, a glare on his face.

Albert stood up. “Hi, Race.”

“You fucking idiot.” Race smacked him on the side of his head.

“Ow!” Albert rubbed the sore spot. “What was that for?”

“You got yourself stabbed!” Race retorted. “How could you do that?”

“I just…” Albert sighed. “I don’t really know. But I…couldn’t live without ya, Race.”

“You fucking idiot,” Race said again, and he grabbed Albert in a tight hug. They stayed like that until someone behind Albert cleared their throat. He pulled away from Race and turned around.

“Crutchie!”

The kid was standing on his own two feet. Beside him was Jack, with Les just behind them, a wide grin on his face.

“Hi, Al,” Crutchie said.

“You can stand.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Albert!” Les hurried over and hugged him around the waist.

“Hey, shortstop.”

Les looked up at him. “Have you seen Davey? How is he?”

“He’s…” Albert didn’t want Les to worry. “He’s been better. Misses you.”

“I miss him, too.”

Race slung an arm around Albert’s shoulder. “I’m still mad at you, but I sure am glad you’re here.”

“Yeah. And where exactly are we?”

“This, buddy, is Santa Fe.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finch's side.

At the lodging house, Finch loved waking up to the birds singing along with the morning bell.

In the Refuge, he couldn’t hear the birds at all.

During the day, it was too loud. There was screaming and shouting and cursing and crying. Finch never wanted to hear any of his friends make any of those sounds ever again.

During the night, it was too quiet. The only sounds to be heard were the sniffles of the younger boys as they tried not to cry, and the whispers of the older boys as they tried to provide comfort that was too far away to really reach.

At the beginning of their sentence, Finch sang. Not loudly, but enough that the other boys took notice. The younger ones would ask him to sing before they all went to sleep, and Finch was more than happy to oblige.

When Les got sick, Finch sat at the foot of the bed and hummed.

When Les died, Davey didn’t take it well. Finch sang to him that night until he finally fell asleep.

A few nights later, Finch was singing for the younger boys. The door swung open. Snyder. His goons took Finch from the room.

Finch never talked about what Snyder did to him. He didn’t sing anymore, either.

It was the next day that Finch developed a cough. He lost his voice. Specs assured him that it was just a cold. His voice would return.

Finch’s voice didn’t return. His cough got worse. Soon he had a fever that refused to break. Specs no longer tried to reassure him.

Davey stayed away, Finch noticed, and it made him sad. But he understood. Les had had all the same symptoms before...

And now Finch had it, and Davey was forced to relive his brother’s death through a friend.

Soon Finch couldn’t sit up. He knew it was almost time. Elmer sat next to him most of the time, humming. He said once that he missed Finch’s singing.

Finch was so tired. He dreamed so often. He dreamed of his friends. The ones who refused to leave his side. The ones who couldn’t bear to watch him fade. The ones who he would see again very soon.

Finch dreamed. And then he woke up.

There was no concrete ceiling. There were no screams and shouts and cries and sounds of pain. There was only blue sky. There were the sounds of birds. There were voices, pleasant and familiar. Finch sat up and looked around. He smiled. Opened his mouth.

And sang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr: poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crutchie's side.

Everything hurt so much. Crutchie thought he might actually be dead.

If only he were so lucky.

It had been bad enough at the square; Crutchie could still feel bruises forming from where his own crutch had struck him. But it turned out those blows had only been to subdue.

Now, in the Refuge, alone in a dim room with Snyder, Crutchie learned just how much worse it could be.

“Just tell me what I want to know, boy,” Snyder growled.

Crutchie could only shake his head. He didn’t know anything. It wasn’t like the newsies had had a solid plan to begin with, and now they could be anywhere. All Crutchie remembered was everyone scattering, scared out of their minds.

He didn’t know anything, but apparently Snyder didn’t care. The man had Crutchie’s crutch in his hands.

A blow to Crutchie’s side. Two. Three. He couldn’t breathe.

His legs. He thought his good leg might be broken, and he couldn’t feel his bad leg at all anymore.

A hard jab to his stomach, and Crutchie thought he might throw up.

Another to his chest. He thought he heard a crack. He couldn’t breathe.

Snyder was angry, that much was obvious. He brought the crutch down again, and it caught Crutchie in the head. Hard.

Another crack. The sound of wood hitting the floor. Crutchie’s vision was fading, but he could see the two pieces of his crutch lying near him. He couldn’t breathe.

Crutchie closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he could breathe again. He was lying under a blue sky, no clouds in sight. The sun was bright and warm and welcoming. There were mountains. Crutchie could just make out a city in the distance. He sat up, bracing himself for pain, but there was none. He stood up, and to his surprise, both his legs held his weight as though they had all his life. He remembered that morning on the rooftop, perhaps only a couple of days before. It felt like a lifetime.

_“I bet a few months of clean air and you could toss that crutch for good!”_

Crutchie took a deep breath. The air was crisp. Hot and fresh. And he knew where he was.

Santa Fe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I had never actually written it, so here it is.  
> find me on tumblr: poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elmer's side.

Elmer couldn’t remember the last time he had set foot in a church. If he had to guess, he would probably say it had been with his mother when he was younger. Before she died.

The church had nothing for him. It was a lonely place, full of memories he would rather not relive. To some, the church was a comfort. To Elmer, it meant only sadness.

So why was he here now, standing on the front steps of the imposing building, trying to convince himself to go inside? 

Perhaps it was because he needed a listening ear, one that wasn’t tainted with traumas from the Refuge. Perhaps it was because he had lost so many friends, and he just needed to understand why.

Elmer took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy doors. The sanctuary was quiet, and every one of his steps echoed against the stone walls. Light from the setting sun shone through the stained-glass windows, illuminating the pews.

It was beautiful, but Elmer hardly took notice.

He sat in a pew near the back of the church. Bowed his head.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” Elmer whispered. He felt ridiculous, speaking into the air when he wasn’t even sure if anyone was listening anymore. “I just…I need to understand. Why did this happen to us?

“Albert died yesterday. We found him…we found him in an alley almost two miles from the lodging house. There was so much blood.

“I thought things were gettin’ better. I mean, we’re broken. But we still had each other. I guess Albert couldn’t bear it.

“I miss ‘im. I miss all’a them. This world is evil, and you let it be evil! You let my friends die.”

Elmer realized he had shouted the last bit, but he didn’t care. He had all the answers he needed.

The stairs to the roof weren’t hard to find. Elmer knew there was a balcony; his mother used to bring him up there after Sunday services sometimes, even though it wasn’t technically allowed.

“This is all that God has created,” she would say, gesturing to the sun as it shone down on the city. Elmer used to love it.

But the sun was gone now, and clouds were covering the moon and stars. Elmer leaned over the railing and stared out at the city he had once thought was extraordinary. But now he knew that it was full of evil and pain and tears. The city took his friends from him.

He climbed over the railing. Took a deep breath. Stepped forward-

-and his foot hit soft grass.

“Elmer!” That was Albert. Elmer turned around just in time for his friend to practically tackle him in a hug. “You’re here.”

“I thought I would never see you again,” Elmer whispered in Albert’s shoulder. “When we found you-”

“Hey, I’m okay now, ain’t I?” Albert smiled. “We’re all okay now. Me and you and the whole lot of ‘em over there.” He pointed, and it was then that Elmer noticed that Jack, Crutchie, Race, Finch, and Les were standing together a little ways away. He grinned. He had found his friends at last.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine's side.

When Katherine first met that silly, flirty, cocky boy and his gang of loud, rambunctious friends, she had never imagined that she would soon consider them some of the best friends she had ever made.

And she had never imagined that she would be forced to watch half of them arrested, hurt, and even killed. That Jack Kelly, who had snuck up on her with little more than a wink and a “morning, miss!”, would be taken from her in the blink of an eye.

Boots, one of the few newsies who hadn’t been arrested at the rally, had shown her to the Refuge, a positively ghastly place that seemed to radiate evil. He led her up a fire escape to a small, barred window. The room inside was dim, but Katherine could make out bunks lined up against the wall. There were kids in those bunks; some couldn’t even lie down because they were so crowded. Boots had knocked on the window, a special little pattern that Katherine knew she would never forget.

Someone had come to the window and lifted the glass. It was Specs, though his glasses were missing and his face was bruised. He looked so tired, Katherine remembered. He smiled when he saw the two of them, but it was forced.

Katherine had taken one of his hands in her own and asked him how he and the others were doing. Specs didn’t answer right away. When he finally did, it was in a broken whisper. He told her about the sickness and the pain, how Les and Finch had faded so fast. How JoJo had barely made it to the Refuge in one piece, and how Race had never made it there at all. Katherine swallowed hard and wiped the tears from her eyes. She put an arm around Boots, who was just barely managing to stifle his sobs.

She had squeezed Specs’ hand. Gathered up her courage. Asked about Jack. She hadn’t been at the rally; her father wouldn’t let her out of his sight for hours after the Delancey brothers took Jack down to the cellar. But the time Katherine had managed to get to the theatre, the only thing she saw was the unjust arrest of her new friends. When she said Jack’s name, Specs had taken a deep breath and just shaken his head.

And though Katherine didn’t want to believe it, she had her answer.

So now she sat alone in her apartment, her typewriter in front of her. There was nothing written on the page. She couldn’t think. Only stare into space.

Katherine wanted justice for her friends. The ones who were still in the Refuge, the ones who were at the lodging house, trying to survive without a leader, and the ones who were in a better place. She wanted this damn city to know that she and so many others would not stand for the mistreatment and the abuse that the working kids of New York were subjected to every day. And for what? So a newspaper could make an extra ten cents a day? So children could rot in the Refuge with no one to save them?

They would have a voice. And Katherine would make sure that that voice was heard loud and clear. She started typing.

“ _The Children’s Crusade…_ ”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah's side, part 1.

When Davey mentioned a strike, Sarah was a little worried.

When he mentioned a rally, she was even more worried. Davey told her not to worry.

“It’ll be fine,” he had said with a smile. “All the newsies from all over the city…we’re gonna join together, and we can’t lose!”

Sarah wished with all her heart that he had been right.

Davey and Les didn’t come home that night. Davey hadn’t told their parents; he had only said they might be a little late returning from selling that day. Their mother had smiled and told Davey to make sure he and Les got something to eat. Their father had put a hand on Davey’s shoulder and told him to take care of his little brother. Davey had just nodded, and then he and Les were gone.

They had been gone for a week now. Sarah couldn’t eat or sleep. All she could do was stare at the empty chairs at the table, at the bed that was still neatly made, and worry.

She worried for her brothers’ safety. The night they didn’t come home, she had slipped out of the apartment and hurried to the lodging house. She passed it every day on her way to work, so she knew exactly where the place was. It was quiet; no candles were burning in the windows, and no sounds of shouting or laughter could be heard.

When Sarah knocked on the door, there was no answer at first. Then, it slowly creaked open, and there stood a newsie about the same age as Les. There was a bruise on his forehead and a gash on his cheek.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“I’m Sarah. I’m Les and Davey’s sister. Do you know-”

“Boots!” There was a shout, and suddenly another newsie, probably around Davey’s age, wearing an eyepatch, was standing behind the kid. “Why’d you open the door? It could be anyone…” He trailed off when he saw Sarah.

“I’m just looking for Davey and Les,” she said. “Do you know where they are? Are they here?”

The newsie sighed. “They’re…they’re not here. Almost no one is. Only a few of us managed to escape.”

“Escape? You mean the rally?” Davey had said it was going to be peaceful. “It was just a demonstration! Speeches!”

“The bulls didn’t care. They barged into the theatre. Arrested most’a us. Your brothers…they’re at the Refuge now.”

“The Refuge?” Sarah had only heard stories, mostly ones Les had picked up from older kids at school. It was a prison. A torture chamber. An absolute hellhole. If Davey and Les were there… “Can you take me?”

The newsie looked surprised. “You wanna go there? Now?”

“Yes.”

“I can take her!” Boots piped up eagerly. The older newsie hushed him.

“We can’t.”

“But Blink-”

“Boots.” It was a warning. The older newsie -Blink, apparently- turned to Sarah. “We can’t take you now. The bulls are still huntin’ for us.”

“Then take me tomorrow.”

Blink sighed. “Fine. I mean…I gotta go, anyway, check up on ‘em. Maybe they found Crutchie.”

“Good. So, see you tomorrow night? And you’ll take me to the Refuge?”

“Yeah, I’ll take ya.”

Sarah nodded with a confidence she wasn’t entirely sure she had, gave Boots a small smile, and walked away. She heard the front door of the lodging house close quietly. Sarah swallowed hard, trying to keep back the tears. She was going to see her brothers tomorrow.

God, she hoped they were okay.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah's side, part 2.

The next night, Sarah found herself back at the lodging house. She knocked, and a few moments later, the door opened. Blink stood there, looking even more tired than he had yesterday.

"You ready?" He asked.

Sarah nodded. "I have to know if they're okay."

"Alright, let's go."

Sarah had never seen the Refuge before, but it was a foreboding, monstrous building that looked like it should house dangerous criminals, not children. She followed Blink around the perimeter, staying close to the barbed-wire fence, and up a fire escape. Soon they were standing next to a barred window. Blink knocked twice and turned to Sarah. “This is usually where they bring the older kids, but they might’a kept ‘em all together, so maybe Les is there, too.”

He knocked again, and then there was a boy about Blink’s age at the window, pushing up the glass. Sarah didn’t recognize him, but Blink did.

“Mush, are you okay?” He asked. “Is everyone in there? Shit, your arm...”

Sarah looked and noticed that Mush had a bad gash on his arm. He had wrapped it in fabric, but blood was seeping through the makeshift bandage.

“It’s nothin’,” he said, obviously tying to keep Blink from worrying.

“Nothin’? Mush, it’s-”

“There are others in worse shape,” Mush interrupted. “Romeo’s been out since we got here, and I think Les’ wrist might be broken.”

“So he’s here?” Sarah asked before she could stop herself. Mush looked surprised, like he had just noticed her standing there.

“I guess you’re their sister,” he said. “Les was just talkin’ about you. I’ll, uh...I’ll go get ‘em.”

He disappeared, and a moment later returned with Davey and Les. Sarah gasped. Davey’s face was bruised, his lip busted, and Les’ arm was back in the sling he had come home with a few days before.

“Sarah!” Les exclaimed. He reached through the bars and grabbed Sarah’s hand in his good one. “How’d you know we were here?”

“Blink brought me,” she replied with a soft smile. “I was so worried about you guys.”

“Sarah, this is so dangerous.” Davey’s voice wavered. “If you get caught-”

“I won’t.”

“You don’t know that. Sarah, please.” Davey grabbed her other hand. “I’m so glad you’re here. But you can’t come back. Snyder--the guy who runs this place--he’s evil. He’ll take you, too. Please...we’ll be fine. Tell Mom and Dad we’re fine. Just...tell them we’re fine.”

Sarah could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks, but she made no move to wipe them away.

“Please be safe,” she whispered. “I can’t lose you two.”

“You won’t,” Davey said. “I promise. Right, Les?”

Les’ eyes were wet, but he nodded. “Yeah. We’re tough.”

“I know you are. I love you.” Sarah gently withdrew her hands and turned to Blink. “I’ll...see you at the bottom?”

Blink nodded, and Sarah climbed back down the ladder so her brothers wouldn’t have to see her break down.

* * *

 

The memories were painful. Davey and Les had been gone for months now, and Sarah hadn’t seen them since that night. She hated it, but she had promised Davey she wouldn’t return. She had promised to share little information with their parents, though it nearly killed her every day when she saw their mother staring at the pictures that sat on the dresser.

She had promised she wouldn’t return to the Refuge herself, but that didn’t stop her from visiting the lodging house frequently for updates. Blink went back almost every night, bringing supplies to his friends. One evening, a week and a half after their visit together to the Refuge, when Sarah knocked on the front door, Boots answered. His face was stained with tears.

“Blink didn’t come home last night,” he sniffled. “I think they got ‘im. I think Snyder has ‘im.”

After that, there was nothing Sarah could do.

And now, as she walked home with her father, she knew she was returning to an apartment without her brothers, and she could barely stand it. Maybe she would sneak back to the Refuge, damn Davey’s over-protectiveness all to hell. She knew the way. She knew which window; climbing up the fire escape would be easy-

Her father opened the front door, and there in the kitchen sat Davey. He was bruised and skinny. His cheeks were hollow, and there were permanent bags under his eyes. He looked awful, haunted.

“How...?” Sarah couldn’t find the words. She embraced her brother tightly and almost cried when she felt him flinch. Davey was home, but he was so broken. Davey was home...

...but he was alone.

“Son, what happened?” Sarah heard their father say. “Please tell us. Where’s Les?”

And one look into Davey’s eyes told Sarah that she didn’t want to know the answer.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albert's Interlude.

“Why hasn’t Al come back yet?” Elmer’s question hung in the air, and though he knew that no one had an answer, it still infuriated him that his words were met with only silence and concerned looks. “He should’a been back hours ago.”

“Do you know where he might’a went, Davey?” Specs asked. Davey only shook his head. He had come back into the lodging house fuming and refused to talk about what had happened with Albert. He had been so  _angry._ But he didn’t seem angry now, only sad and worried.

“I thought he was right behind me,” he said quietly. “I was mad. I didn’t want to…to look at him anymore. I came up here. I didn’t see which direction he went.” He looked up at Elmer. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Elmer shook his head. “We just gotta…we gotta go out and look for ‘im, that’s all.”

“That’s a good idea.” Specs stood up. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

“I’m comin’, too,” Blink said.

“I’ll come.” Davey’s words were soft, but when Specs glanced at him, his expression was firm.

“Alright,” Specs said. “Let’s go.”

—

It was two hours before they found him. The streets were dark and the moon wasn’t out and it was so hard to see. The alleys seemed like caves, devoid of light as they were.

Elmer was the first one to see Albert. He broke away from the group and ran into the alley, pushed aside the crates that had fallen around the figure on the ground.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” That seemed to be all he could say as he knelt beside the limp form. His hands hovered shakily over his friend.

“There’s so much blood,” Davey whispered, and suddenly he was next to Elmer, pushing his hands against the wound on Albert’s side. Albert didn’t react. Albert wasn’t breathing.

“Davey…” Specs reached for him, but Davey jerked away.

“We gotta help ‘im, Specs.” Davey let out a shuddering breath. “This is my fault. I let him go. I didn’t stop him. I…”

His words dissolved into nothing but gasping sobs. Elmer wasn’t crying, only staring blankly at Albert’s pale face, at his closed eyes. Blink had left the alley, and they could hear him retching. Specs sank to the ground beside Davey.

They thought things were getting better, but suddenly it had all come crashing back down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr: poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romeo's side.

When the cops raided the theatre, Romeo was afraid. He was afraid of what was going to happen to him and his friends. He was afraid of what this meant for the strike. Had they lost?

Suddenly, a cop’s baton came out of nowhere and struck Romeo hard across the temple, and he was out.

At least his dreams weren’t anything to be afraid of. Not in the beginning.

There wasn’t much at first, only lights and colors. Romeo had never seen anything so bright that wasn’t the sun. There were greens and blues and yellows and pinks, and though they were in no particular shape, Romeo felt as if he could reach out and touch them. But when he lifted his hand, the pastels suddenly turned violently red. Still, Romeo persisted, and his fingers brushed the fire-

-there was panicked shouting all around him. Romeo tried to move, stand, open his eyes,  _anything_ , but his body wouldn’t cooperate. God, everything hurt. 

What was happening?

“Romeo!” Was that Specs? His voice sounded so far away. Romeo opened his mouth, but he found he couldn’t form any words. All that came out was a quiet, pained whine. “Romeo, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Specs sounded like he was crying, and that was enough to make Romeo force his eyes open. His vision was blurred, but he could just make out Specs’s tear-stained face hovering over him.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Specs whispered again. “We’re in a police wagon. We’re goin’ to the Refuge, but it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

Something wet hit Romeo’s cheek. Specs was still crying, and even in his hazy, sleepy, delirious state, Romeo felt afraid again. He had never seen Specs so broken, so unsure. He want to hug his friend, to reassure him somehow, but there was just so much  _pain._ Romeo felt trapped in his own body. 

He was so tired. He let his eyes slip closed despite Specs’s quiet protests.

Romeo’s dreams were beautiful again. He could actually smell how fresh the air was, and the sky was so blue. He had never seen such a beautiful place.

He could stand. There was no more pain, no more shouting. Everything was quiet.

“Romeo!” There was Race, and Romeo couldn’t stop himself from running at his brother and holding onto him for dear life.

“I thought I’d never see you again!” Romeo said. He could feel tears in his eyes, but he stubbornly refused to let them fall.

“Well, I’m here.” Race’s voice was suspiciously shaky, but he was smiling. “Everyone else is here, too.”

“So the only place I can see you guys is in my dreams?”

“It’s not a dream.” Jack had walked up, and he slung his arm around Romeo’s shoulders. “This is real, kid.”

“It is? Where are we?”

“Santa Fe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr: poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Ike's side.

Mike and Ike didn’t remember a time they weren’t together. They were twins, so they were always together. They took care of each other when times got rough and their father didn’t come home from work one day and their mother cried for ages afterward. They helped each other get out of the small apartment when the building somehow caught on fire one night. They were the only ones to survive the blaze.

Mike and Ike didn’t remember a time they weren’t together. They started selling papers to get by, and they made friends and found a new place to call home. They laughed at night when the younger, newer newsies tried in vain to tell them apart, and they delighted in tricking their friends. They switched hats and shirts and even pants once to become each other.

Mike and Ike didn’t remember a time they weren’t together. They were the ones Jack sent out one night when Romeo didn’t come back from selling. It was cold and snowy and the ground was invisible under a thick blanket of white. They covered ground quickly, matching each other’s footsteps and yelling back and forth in alleys and behind buildings until they found their young friend. He had gotten caught in the storm and was sitting in a doorway trying to keep warm. They brought him home to the lodging house, to a lecture from Jack and a hug from Specs.

Mike and Ike didn’t remember a time they weren’t together. They both immediately took to the new kid and his little brother. Davey was so proper, or at least he tried to be, and Les just wanted to have fun. Mike and Ike made it their priority to talk to the brothers whenever they could, to make friends and have conversations and laugh. They didn’t get a lot of chances, but they knew Davey and Les were good people, and they wanted them to stick around for a while.

Mike and Ike didn’t remember a time they weren’t together. The aftermath of the rally was loud and frightening and violent, and everyone was running everywhere and no one knew what to do. Mike grabbed Ike’s hand and pulled him toward the stage, toward a door in the back that inevitably led to freedom. But then Les screamed and Ike looked back, and Davey was nowhere to be seen. And Ike let go of Mike’s hand to wade back into the crowd to save their new friend.

Mike remembered a time he and Ike weren’t together. It was after he watched his brother disappear into the crowd of newsies and cops and strikebreakers. He tried to follow him, but an officer blocked his path and hit him in the head and grabbed his arm, and suddenly Mike was in a wagon bound for the Refuge. He saw Specs and Romeo and Davey and Mush and no Ike.

Ike remembered a time he and Mike weren’t together. He had gone back to get Les, to try and pull him out of danger and bring him back to the door, where Mike waited. He didn’t make it. A man grabbed him before he could reach Les. Ike struggled, even managed to bite the man’s hand when it covered his mouth. He almost got away, but a blow from a policeman’s baton brought him down. And then the blows didn’t stop. And then Ike remembered nothing else until he woke up in a place clean and quiet, with a few of his friends already beside him.

And he and Mike weren’t together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr: poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blink's side, part 1.

Blink was always so careful.

When he was little, he was careful around his father’s anger and swinging fists. As he got older, he was careful around anyone he thought might be a threat, from other kids on the street to street vendors from whom he was swiping just enough food to survive.

Blink became a newsie after he ran away from home, and even though he trusted his friends as though they were family, he was still careful.

Blink was always careful. So how did he get caught?

He still didn’t know the answer even as he sat in Snyder’s office, a place he was all too familiar with from other times he wasn’t careful enough, watching the man scribble notes of his ‘criminal charges’ in a book.

“Trespassing, aiding and abetting, loitering…” Snyder set the pen down with a smile. “Quite the list there, Louis.”

“Don’t call me that,” Blink spat. “Ugly fucker like you don’t get to-”

Snyder had always moved faster than a man of his age probably should have been able to, and suddenly Blink was reeling from a hard smack to his face. After a few moments, he managed to get his bearings and sit upright again, but he could feel an uncomfortable warmth on his face. Though he couldn’t reach up and touch it with his hands cuffed behind his back, he knew he was bleeding. He had caught the sharp end of Snyder’s ring before.

“That’s a common problem with you newsboys, isn’t it? Showing respect to your elders,” Snyder said. “Even the new one. And his little rat of a brother.”

Blink knew Snyder was talking about Davey and Les, but he held his tongue despite how desperately he wanted to defend his new friends. The kids he hadn’t even talked to that much before the strike but felt he knew them well because of the stories Sarah would tell when they sat together in the front room of the lodging house nearly every night-

Oh, no. Sarah might try to come alone (Blink had made Boots promise ages ago that he wouldn’t go anywhere near the Refuge again after he brought Katherine that one night), and something could happen, and if she got arrested, too, there was no telling what Snyder would do.

Maybe it was because of his startling realization and the panic that accompanied it, or maybe it was just because of his fiery temper and unwillingness to think things through, but suddenly Blink was talking again.

“Maybe we would show more respect if you earned it good and proper, ‘stead of beatin’ kids senseless just ‘cause you’re a spineless coward who takes his anger out on people smaller ‘an you ‘cause you know they can’t fight back-”

The fist to Blink’s face was unsurprising and certainly not appreciated, but Blink knew that he had dug his own grave the moment he decided to sneak back to the Refuge despite the fact the sun was coming up soon and he would no longer have the cover of night. So he kept talking through a newly-split lip.

“What, you just provin’ me right?”

Snyder’s next blow was the hardest; the man had evidently decided not to hold back anymore, or maybe Blink had managed to piss him off just enough to cloud his already shaky judgement.

Soon, Blink stopped talking. There was too much blood in his mouth.

Then Snyder grabbed his hair and slammed his head into the concrete floor, and Blink stopped thinking for a while, too.

* * *

 

Unconsciousness was bliss, free from pain and fear and the worry Blink had felt in the pit of his stomach since the rally, and it was over far too quickly for his liking.

He groaned and curled in on himself, realizing belatedly that he was now lying on a mattress, not the floor of Snyder’s office, and that his feet had brushed up against something that shifted when he touched it. The movement was accompanied by a voice, soft and practically dripping with concern.

“Blink?” It was Mush. Of course it was Mush. No one besides him and Crutchie could bring that sense of care into their voices, and Crutchie was…

“Mush.” Blink was startled at how hard it was to even say the one word, but he supposed it was because of the bruises he could feel forming on his throat from Snyder’s rough hands.

“You’re a dumbass,” Mush said. Even with the harsh words, the care still remained. “You got caught. I told’ja you couldn’t keep sneakin’ up here. They was bound to see you sooner or later-”

“Least it was later,” Blink joked.

“Yeah, whatever.” There was another shift, as though Mush was leaning closer. “Blink, can you open your eye for me? Your, uh, your patch is gone, and I don’t gotta see your bad eye even though I probably should ‘cause the place around it’s all swollen and such, but, uh, I gotta look at your good eye to see if it looks funny. Specs told me about concussions, but he’s sleepin’ now, and I don’t wanna wake ‘im. I think I can see if you got one, though.”

“You always talked too much, y’know that?” Blink grumbled, though the insult held no malice. Everyone knew that Mush’s tendency to ramble was just part of his charm. “My head’s poundin’ somethin’ wild. Just gimme a second.”

His eyelids felt unbelievably heavy, and Blink thought Mush could be onto something with what he said about Blink’s bad eye because he found he couldn’t open it at all, but finally Blink managed to force his good eye open just a little-

-and saw nothing.

“What the fuck,” he whispered. He closed his eye and reopened it, but everything was still as black as though he had never opened it at all, like all the light had been sucked from the room and they were all sitting in a void.

Except Blink was the only one in the dark.

He screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr: @poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow  
> find me on twitter: @its_spinning


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